


The Talk

by msmichellewinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Feelings, Fluff, M/M, Set after 11x23
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 13:34:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7107016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmichellewinchester/pseuds/msmichellewinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Supernatural Hiatus Writing Challenge, week 1: "Please, point your gun at me if it helps you relax."</p>
<p>After Amara disappeared with Chuck, the Team Free Will finally gets some time off. Sam is hanging out with a woman who almost shot him, Dean is bored, and Cas doesn't know how to relax.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Talk

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story after a long writer's block and I basically spit this out without thinking or planning and with no time on my hands, which doesn't work well for me. But this challenge is something I really want to do to get my writing in shape again, so please, be patient :).

Dean felt restless.  
  
Ever since Amara left on an extended vacation with her brother about three months ago, everything had been pretty much calm, with the possible exception of the incident with Toni Bevell, a British Woman of Letters. Only she had already been taken care of by Sam, who managed to lock her in their basement for later interrogation. Apparently she had blown Cas somewhere to the Sahara desert and tried to shoot Sam, so Dean couldn't feel sorry for her. She wasn't exactly suffering either. She had water, enough food and Sam even brought her some books. She seemed to have resigned to her fate, even though she occasionally threatened Sam and Dean with the consequences her imprisonment would have.  
  
Then there was Mary, of course. It was incredibly strange having his mother around. After Sam and Dean tested her in every possible way they could figure out, they had to conclude, she was real, alive and completely herself. The first few weeks, there was a strange euphoria about being able to talk to her whenever they wanted, or just see her around, cooking, cleaning or researching. It soon turned out however, that she was pretty clueless about most things that happened after her death. She knew there was supposed to be an apocalypse, but it failed. She knew John died and that Sam and Dean were hunters. The last piece of information appeared to be a sore subject and so far it kept the brothers from looking for hunts.  
  
The last thing that had been keeping Dean busy, getting Cas back to the US and preferably the Bunker, was resolved just a few days earlier when Crowley dragged Castiel in literally by his ear, shoved him towards Dean and asked him to keep his bloody pet on a leash. It turned out that Cas had wandered into the path of some demons in Cairo, who were torturing a local man and he killed three of them before the rest ran away to whine about it to Crowley. Crowley was still in quite a good mood since his participation in allegedly (meaning according to Crowley himself) killing Lucifer, Amara and God didn't go unnoticed by the demons and he restored enough of his former respect so that he could start rebuilding Hell. Part of it was keeping demons busy so they wouldn't have time to plot behind his back, which he managed by assigning them tasks of various importance. Unfortunately, the mission in Cairo was one of the more important ones (though he absolutely refused to give further details) and Castiel destroyed it.  
  
Dean didn't wait for Crowley to leave to call a hunter in Cairo and warn him, just to piss the demon off. Crowley just seemed mildly amused. Then he gave Castiel one last glare and left – actually walked out the door for once, since he didn't seem to be able to just zip in and out of the Bunker.  
  
"It's kinda like living in Hogwarts," said Dean, grinning, and ignored Sam's disbelieving look.  
  
After this, there was barely anything to do in the Bunker. Sam started sneaking down to the basement, which Dean wouldn't stop teasing him about, but he had to admit that Toni probably had a lot to tell them and if she started to talk to Sam, it could give them some advantage in the future if they ran into the British Men of Letters again.  
  
At first, Dean would spend pretty much every possible minute with his mom, but there was only so much an almost forty-year-old man could talk to his mother about, even if she was dead for most of his life. For some reason, he caught himself filtering out more than half of things that had happened to him and Sam, for one reason or another. Until she was a lovely, distant memory to him, he felt like he could have told her anything. But now she was real and right there and he felt like a teenager being asked about his day at school.  
  
"It makes sense, Dean," said Sam when Dean brought it up the day before. "We grew up without her and as much as you missed her, she's kind of a...stranger, isn't she?" Sam sounded cautious, like he was afraid that Dean was going to attack him any second.  
  
Dean couldn't deny that it triggered some sort of knee-jerk reaction to protest against it, but he knew Sam had a point.  
  
"Plus, we're grown men," Sam added.  
  
"You have to admit, this kind of gives the 'I'm over thirty and I'm living with my mother' cliche an unexpected turn," said Dean.  
  
Sam laughed, but he still sounded a little off. He had a hard time accepting the fact that their mother was back, mostly because for him, she really was a stranger. He started a few slightly awkward conversations with her, but he mostly just let Dean talk or stuck to answering her questions if she asked. "Look, Dean, mom seems fine right now. And it's still gonna take time for all of us to get used to this. Just keep doing what you're doing. It's not mom we should be worrying about anyway."  
  
Dean frowned. "That Toni chick is locked up and no one else barged in so far."  
  
Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, not that. Though I say we invest in some good old muggle alarm system." He said the word "muggle" with a bit of a teasing tone in his voice.  
"Yeah, who's a nerd, nerd," Dean laughed. "And quit rolling your eyes, they might get stuck like that."  
  
Sam pulled a face. "Are you sure you're not my mom?"  
  
"Bitch."  
  
"Jerk. I was trying to get to a point, you know?" Sam said and glared at Dean. "You should talk to Cas."  
  
That pulled Dean right out of his joking mood. "I already did."  
  
"Yeah, and I'm sure you've exceeded your year limit and strained yourself. I'm serious, Dean."  
  
“Me too,“ said Dean and crossed his arms over his chest. Cas is fine. He‘s always fine."  
  
Sam gave Dean a disbelieving look. “Is he? He hasn‘t left his room these last three days and I don‘t think you guys said one word to each other since you kicked him out of your room.“  
  
Dean tried to look annoyed, just in case Sam tried to joke about this incident.  
  
The night Cas came back to the Bunker, Dean entered his room, fully intending on passing out on his bed, only to find the angel already lying there, fully clothed and with his shoes on, leafing through one of the books from the Bunker library. Dean had been so put off by this, he practically threw Cas out and slammed the door into his face. It was only the next morning he found out Cas knocked on Sam‘s door afterwards and Sam spent the next two hours, helping Cas find and settle in his own room.  
  
Sam stared at Dean for a few moments, waiting for an answer. When he didn‘t get one, he sighed. “Just go talk to the guy again, is all I‘m saying. Even just to tell him that you‘re not mad at him about the room.“  
  
“He knows that.“ Dean tried hard not to make it sound like a question. The truth was he had no idea what Cas did or didn‘t know. Hell, the guy had surprised when Dean called him family.  
  
That was yesterday. And damn Sam, Dean hadn‘t stopped thinking about the conversation since. Going to Cas and talk to him had seemed like an overreaction the day before, but today, Dean was suddenly very aware that Cas didn‘t have breakfast or lunch with them (even if he didn‘t need to eat), nor did he show up at any other time during the day. Before, he just thought that Cas needed time, now, his absence had Dean worried.  
  
“Dammit, Sammy,“ he mumbled, raising from his seat. He was going to talk to Cas, if not for anything else, then to prove Sam wrong. Cas was probably fine.  
  
Dean walked up to Castiel‘s room and hesitated. Really, Cas just probably wanted to be alone. There was no point in bothering him, especially at this hour. He‘s probably asleep...oh, that‘s right, he doesn‘t sleep. Well, he‘s reading then. He‘s engrossed in some cryptic book about mythology and he‘ll get pissed if Dean forces him away from it and...  
  
“Dean?“  
  
He froze and said nothing. After a moment, the voice from inside the room repeated his name once more. Dean almost forgot Cas was an angel. He had a sixth sense that told him when people were hanging out just outside his room for no reason.  
  
Dean almost snorted at the situation as he knocked. “Cas?“  
  
Nothing.  
  
“Uh, Cas? You‘re still there?“  
  
There was shuffling from the other side of the door, but it didn‘t open. “Yes.“  
  
Now Dean really wanted to laugh. “Can I come in?“  
  
“I thought you were going to knock again. I understand it‘s customary to knock three times and repeat the person‘s name.“  
  
“Have you been watching The Big Bang Theory, by any chance?“ Dean asked. He didn‘t know Cas had TV in his room, but he guessed it made sense. Sam was usually using his laptop to watch things anyway, so maybe he gave Cas the TV from his room.  
  
There was a moment of silence. “Yes.“  
  
Dean shook his head. “Alright, I‘m going in. Cover your bits.“ He opened his door and almost burst out laughing when he was immediately greeted by one of Castiel‘s famous head-tilts.  
  
"Bits of what, Dean?" he asked and looked around.  
  
Even through his laughter, Dean felt a painful squeeze in his chest at the innocent question. "Did I ever tell you not to change?"  
  
Castiel frowned. "Yes, once. I'm afraid I did change, Dean." The regret in his voice was evident.  
  
"No, you didn't," Dean said smiling. "Not where it counts." He came all the way in and closed the door. The room was pretty much a copy of his own and Sam's, but it was lacking a personal touch. Dean had never really thought about Castiel's possessions, but looking around it was painfully obvious Cas didn't really own that much. Dean and Sam gave him some of their old clothes, but he never really wore them. Even now he was sitting on the bed in his trench coat and shoes.  
  
Dean blinked. "Dude, didn't tell you before? No shoes in the bed."  
  
"You said no shoes in your bed, you didn't mention this rule applies to all the beds."  
  
If it was anyone else, Dean would be pretty sure they were trying to piss him off. But this was Cas and as annoying he could be, Dean had missed him so much, he found it endearing. "Well, Cas, it applies to all the beds. And lose the trench coat while you're at it. Man, do you even have any idea, how to relax?"  
  
"I was under the impression that watching television is a popular form of relaxation," said Cas, but he started taking off his shoes and coat as he spoke. He folded the coat carefully, putting it on the bed next to him and then turned his eyes to Dean again. He was silent for several minutes, apparently waiting for Dean to say something, which didn't happen.  
  
Finally, Castiel decided to break the silence himself. "Why did you come here, Dean?"  
  
Dean sighed. "You've been holed down here for days, Cas. I thought you were okay, you know, after we talked, but this is not normal." As he said it though, he suddenly couldn't remember Cas saying more than three words in that car. He let out a slightly nervous laugh, trying to chase the thought away. "Not that I'm a poster boy for normal. I mean, just...dammit, Cas. Talk to me."  
  
Cas was silent for a long time, but Dean didn't know what else to say, so he waited, his attention flickering towards the TV that was on mute. Apparently, Castiel had been watching some sort of documentary on birds. That made Dean feel even more lost, because, man, if Cas was rotting down here because of his wings, Dean had no idea what to say or do to help.  
  
Finally, Castiel moved. He reached for the controller and turned the TV off. He seemed tired and sad. "I should leave, then," he said quietly. There was no hint of question in his voice. It was just a statement.  
  
Dean blinked. "What? No, of course not, how..." he trailed off and pursed his lips. "Look, Cas if this is about that Gadreel fiasco, I..."  
  
Cas was already shaking his head halfway though Dean's sentence. "It's about everything. I'm tired and confused. It seems like the world is somewhat under control for now and I need a plan. I need a purpose, Dean. And I need answers. I finally met my father and he left before I got to talk to him. I couldn't even ask him what I'm supposed to do now." It seemed like he couldn't stop. Like this was something he was keeping inside for a while now.  
  
Dean realized Sam was right. Cas wasn't okay. Far from it. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He tried again and this time stuttered out a "look, man...I..." before stopping. He huffed in frustration. "I know it sucks, Cas,“ he said finally. “And I know you're not used to this. I'm not either. But if this is a chance to finally catch a break, why not take it?"  
  
"Because I don't know how, Dean," Castiel said. "I don't know how to relax as you pointed out. I'm not human anymore. Alcohol doesn't help and even though I can sleep, every time I try, I..." He stopped abruptly and closed his mouth, avoiding Dean's eyes.  
  
Dean had a suspicion, that this, at least, might be something he has experience with. "You what?"  
  
More silence.  
  
"You have nightmares, don't you?"  
  
Castiel looked deeply ashamed as he nodded. "I...I've had them before, but this... This is different. I thought, since I don't need to sleep, it wouldn't be an issue, but I keep having...flashes even when I'm awake."  
  
"What do you see?"  
  
Castiel shook his head immediately. "That's not important. Don‘t you see, Dean? How am I supposed to do anything with myself if I am not even strong enough to fight a simple memory."  
  
"That's not anything to be ashamed of. You're not a machine, Cas. You're..."  
  
"Human?" Castiel asked with a hint of bitterness.  
  
Dean glared at him. "In a way. You've been down here long enough. And you were human before. You went through a lot." He sighed and his face softened. "When it comes to this I'm really in no position to give you advice. Sam would probably say you gotta talk about it."  
  
There was a pause. "I don't want to," Cas said quietly.  
  
Dean understood, he really did, but he couldn't help thinking about all the possible things Cas could have flashes of. He supposed Lucifer might be part of it, but Cas had said he mostly left him alone. Besides, there was something else. Something he should have talked to Cas about before. "Does it...does it have anything to do with last year? Here, in the bunker?"  
  
Cas paled. "Dean..."  
  
That was confirmation enough. "It does, doesn't it. You're...scared of me."  
  
Cas sighed and pursed his lips. "I said I didn't want to talk about it Dean. But no, I am not scared of you." He paused and frowned, thinking for a moment. "And I am not sure the flashes are about that, exactly."  
  
Dean was confused. "But...you said..."  
  
"No, Dean," Castiel cut him off. "You said and you jumped to conclusions. You were partially right though. I do have flashes of our fight last year, sometimes. Other times, it's Naomi's training or the angels torturing me. Or Metatron telling me you died. Sometimes it goes even further back, to the moment I first saw you, in hell."  
  
Dean closed his eyes for a moment. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear about this. It brought back unwanted memories.  
  
"One way or another it seems to be connected to you. The flashes remind me of what could happen to you. I started hunting the demons in Cairo mainly because the flashes got worse then and I needed something to chance them away. I thought you were dead, Dean," he said and his voice was shaking with intensity. "Gone. Lost to me forever. Twice now, I got a glimpse of what it would feel like to lose you."  
  
Castiel's eyes were burning through Dean, but he stubbornly refused to look up. This topic was a very dangerous territory and Dean silently prayed that Cas would just stop talking.  
  
Cas went on. "Human emotions are still confusing to me, but I know pain and I don't ever remember feeling greater pain than when I believed I would never see you again."  
Dean's heart leaped to his throat while his stomach dropped. Maybe he should have prayed louder.  
  
"You seem nervous," Cas observed.  
  
Dean wanted to laugh. Of course he was nervous, because Cas was talking about that thing, acknowledging it all of a sudden and Dean was terrified. He felt small and useless and dirty and for the first time in a long while he felt like he could almost see the outline of Castiel's wings and the grace creating a halo around his head. He was back in the barn. There was a hand on his shoulder and he jerked back to reality, staring at Cas, who suddenly looked focused and significantly calmer than before.  
  
Castiel's features were soft as he gave Dean's shoulder a slight squeeze. "You're scared."  
  
No need to point it out, thank you very much. Dean tried to give Cas a reassuring smile, which ended up as a disaster. "I'm fine Cas."  
  
"So you keep insisting," Castiel retorted. "What is on your mind, Dean?"  
  
Dean shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "I just remembered how we met, s'all," he said. "The barn, I mean. I don't really remember hell." Sometimes he did have strange dreams of hell filled with blinding light that burned and stabbed at his eyes, but he couldn't look away, because it was calling him and reaching for him. "Sometimes I look at you and it's like I'm in that barn again." Sometimes, when he needs to remind himself, that Cas is a badass angel of the Lord and Dean should show him some respect.  
  
"Then, please, point your gun at me if it helps you relax," Castiel said with a smile that seemed a little too forced.  
  
Dean stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out why Cas said that. Then it hit him. Back in the barn, when Castiel walked in, he had a shotgun in his hands. "You're serious," Dean said and even though he knew his gun couldn't hurt Cas, this bothered him. "Cas, I wouldn't... You know I couldn't... It's different now. Like I said..."  
  
"I know what you said, Dean. You said I'm your brother." There was a mixture of frustration and something like awe in his voice.  
  
Dean was absolutely not having this conversation. "Yes, I did," he said before Cas managed to babble out something that would ruin everything. "I wouldn't shoot Sam in the chest, would I."  
  
The corners of Cas' mouth jerked slightly. "Well, he did say you went after him with a hammer."  
  
"I was a demon. That doesn't count," Dean protested and immediately paused in surprise. "How are we joking about this?" He shook his head and laughed despite himself. "For future reference, going after someone with a hammer is not an acceptable form of relaxation."  
  
Castiel squinted. "Not even if I take my shoes off?"  
  
It caught Dean unprepared and he snorted. "Yeah, Cas, very funny. Who knew you got some sense of humor hidden in there."  
  
Castiel looked almost ridiculously proud of himself.  
  
Dean rolled his eyes.  
  
"I don't see you as a brother, Dean," Castiel said then, very softly.  
  
To Dean, it felt like he yelled it on top of his lungs. Any amusement disappeared immediately and Dean was on edge once again. "Cas..." he forced out, hoping just this one word would stop Cas from saying anymore. It didn't.  
  
"We share a bond. It feels pointless to ignore it, because it will not go away."  
  
Dean didn't say anything. He just shook his head. Of course it was pointless. They both knew it was there. But Dean couldn't. He was mad at himself for it, because Cas deserved better, but he couldn't. He was nowhere near ready to talk about it, much less define it.  
  
Castiel pushed on. "Am I wrong? Did I misunderstand what this is?"  
  
"Look, Cas, it...is what it is. Can we...not put labels on it?"  
  
"I'm not asking you to, Dean," Cas said quietly.  
  
"Then what the hell, Cas?" Dean knew his voice betrayed some of the anger he felt, mostly at himself.  
  
Castiel, bless him, seemed to understand that the anger was not aimed at him. He visibly hesitated before answering though. "I know I often interpret things the wrong way. And with you, I...I'm afraid my judgment is ...impaired. Because I wish I were correct in this case."  
  
Dean thought his heart was going to jump out of his chest. Cas wanted this. He wished it to be real. "You are," he said or rather mumbled, simultaneously scared that Cas wouldn't hear him and possibly even more scared that he would. Because this was as close to admitting the thing as he ever got. He kept his eyes glued to the floor, desperately trying to calm down. It wasn't like he actually said anything, Jesus. Still, it felt like he just bared his heart for Cas to see.  
  
He felt a light touch at the back of his hand and almost stopped breathing for a moment. Cas' finger gently grazed his skin as if he were testing the waters. Dean didn't look at him, but didn't dare to move either. As scary as this was, he didn't want Cas to stop. Cas seemed to get the message and slowly stroked Dean's hand before covering it with his.  
  
Dean couldn't help but stare at their hands for a while. Then he finally looked up. Cas wasn't smiling, but his eyes shined in a way Dean didn't remember ever seeing before. He felt his body relax slightly, when he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Maybe he could do this. Cas needed him and maybe it was the right time they took a step further. And granted, this was a tiny step, but it was a start.  
  
Dean gave Castiel a sheepish smile and gently squeezed his hand.


End file.
